


I'd Come For You

by felicitous



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicitous/pseuds/felicitous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil get into a fight one morning and Clint leaves. Before they have a chance to talk it over Clint gets captured and held for ransom. Coulson will do what ever it takes to find him even if that means putting up with Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Come For You

**Author's Note:**

> The large italicized parts are flashbacks and Tony and Clint are just Bro's, nothing more.

Tony stark stared down at the bottle of scotch in his hands as his mind replayed the chaotic events of the past few hours.  
They had gone on a mission shortly after breakfast, it was supposed to be easy, but, as always, it wasn't. Half of Tony's armor had been destroyed, Steve got knocked out, Natasha broke an arm, Thor was one giant bruise, Bruce was alright, he was the Hulk after all, and Clint had been captured by those wanna-be-terrorist idiots.  
Tony clenched his jaw and held the bottle even tighter, his bloodied knuckles turning white from the strain as he began to shake slightly. Clint had saved his life by throwing himself in the bullets path, taking it in the shoulder of his shooting arm instead of Tony taking it in the head. And he had done nothing to save him when they dragged him, kicking and screaming, into their helicopter and left.  
He threw the half-full bottle at the wall with a growl, emotions raging inside of him, before he buried his aching head in his hands. He wasn't just angry, he was confused as well, and that was only pissing him off more. He was confused because of that fucking prick Coulson. He thought over the whole thing again, looking for anything that would explain what happened.  
 _Tony limped straight over to where Coulson stood. Coulson looked as calm as ever, like he didn't even care that Hawkeye had been kidnapped. God, that only pissed Tony off even more.  
“We have to go back and get him!” he demanded, pointing back at the plane where the other Avengers were being hauled off to the infirmary.  
“There is nothing we can do right now,” Coulson said in a clipped tone, “Now, I'd like to de-”  
“Do you even fucking care that they took Hawkeye or is he just another toy to you too!?” Tony snarled violently.  
That's when Coulson punched him. That straight-laced, uptight, stick-in-the-mud agent punched him in the face so hard he fell on his ass.  
“Shut the hell up, Stark! I said there is nothing we can do right now. We don't even know where they took him yet or if he's even alive still,” Coulson growled down at him before storming off._  
Tony rubbed the bruise on his face, even more confused now than he had been before. “Damn it,” he sighed, “I shouldn't have thrown that bottle.” He stood then, which took quite a bit of effort considering how wasted he already was, and staggered over to the bar to grab another, resolved to drink himself unconscious.  
***  
Coulson was sitting on his couch with a bottle of Jack, watching his tenth episode of Supper Nanny. He'd been at this since he came home, unable to get any of his work done, but instead of making him feel better it only aided in making him more depressed. He missed Clint’s low, taunting voice and watching this just wasn't quite the same without him.  
He clicked the T.V. off angrily and slammed the bottle of whiskey down on the table so hard some of it sloshed out. He stood up slowly then, not even bothering to clean the mess and trudged to the bedroom. He left the door unlocked, more so out of habit than anything else, but there was no denying that small glimmer of hope that burned inside him.  
Phil flopped onto the mass of pillows and blankets with a heavy sigh. He couldn't remember ever feeling as emotionally off-balanced as he did right now. He was angry, God was he angry. He was angry at Clint, angry at Stark, angry at the idiots he worked with, but most of all he was angry at himself.  
Before Hawkeye had left on that ill-fated mission, they had had their worst fight as a couple yet and it was all his fault. It had started out simple enough with the archer complaining about the fact that he was working and that they didn’t spend enough time together, that was nothing new, but things just went downhill from there.  
 _Clint wandered into the living room and smiled at Phil, who had been sitting on the couch filling out yet another mission summary. The younger man had been wearing only a pair of thin sleep pants and his short hair was still mused from sleep.  
He made his way over and sat next to Coulson, leaning over so that his head rested on the taller man's shoulder. “You're working again?” he groaned in obvious distaste, like he couldn't believe it was possible.  
“It needs to be done.” Phil replied, not bothering to look up again because he knew he would be distracted by his lovers if he did.  
“I can think of another thing that needs to be done,” Clint muttered spitefully as he leaned away so that they were no longer touching.  
“Clint, not right now. Can't you see that I’m busy?” he really was and he wanted to get this all done as soon as possible so he didn't have to worry about it any longer.  
Clint was on his feet in a heartbeat, all traces of his sleepiness gone, replaced by anger and a look of rejection. “You're always busy, Phil! Fuck, I barely get to see you anymore and when I do you're either to busy to acknowledge my existence or to tired to even speak! Do you even fucking care about me anymore?” Clint's voice cracked with that last question and his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.  
Through out Clint's entire outburst Phil kept his face calm and he set his work down before answering with a simple 'I do' that he would get how much he really did across.  
It didn't work because the younger man just snorted, “Right, of course do. Why don't you bother to show it once in a while?”  
“My work is more important right now. I’m sure yours is too.” Phil regretted those words the moment they left his mouth.  
Clint’s tears began to spill over and his expression was the one he wore when he was trying not to show how much pain he was in. His reply was choked and harsh, “Of course.” He turned and stormed away, gathering his gear, dressing and leaving. He he grabbed the keys to his bike, leaving his house keys on the counter and slammed the door when he left, not once looking back at Phil._  
He never even had the chance to apologize. Phil wrapped his arms around Clint’s pillow and held it close, as if it could somehow replace the missing man in his life. He never thought it would hurt this bad to miss someone, but then again he'd never really been in love like this before. It was like and icy dagger in his heart. Phil fell into restless sleep, clutching onto the pillow like his very life depended on it, his dreams a mix of peasant memories and fearful nightmares.  
***  
The obnoxious ringing of his phone dragged Tony from his drunken stupor and into consciousness. He groped around for his phone blindly and squinted at the screen when he finally found it, too hungover to remember who he had assigned that particular ring tone to.  
It was Fury.  
Normally he would have just ignored it to be a dick, but considering the circumstances he only waited a few seconds longer before answering.  
“What?” he slurred, hoping it was something good. He needed something good right now.  
“We've been sent what looks like a ransom video.”  
“What? Wait, really? You're kidding, right?”  
“No. come to the briefing room, the rest of the team is on their way as well.” Fury hung up then, nothing more needing to be said.  
Tony felt his guilt creeping back as he thought solemnly about what fury had said. Everyone was on their way, everyone except Hawkeye.  
***  
Coulson was already sitting when the Avengers came in. Thor and Bruce were first, both bruised but alright. Natasha was after them, her arm in a brace and sling, with Steve right behind her, obviously recovered from last night. Tony was last, of course, his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses and he reeked of alcohol. Phil could see the bruise on the side of his face from where he'd punched him, but he didn't feel the least bit guilty about it.  
They all sat in silence, too wrapped up in their thoughts to speak. When the large screen in front of them flicked on they all looked up, giving it their undivided attention.  
Clint was kneeling on the floor in a small room with men in face-concealing gas-masks all around him. His head was bowed and his arms were stretched above his him, chained to the ceiling. There was both fresh and dried blood, most of which came from the bleeding wound in his shoulder, smeared across bruised skin and someone had used it to draw the Avengers symbol on his chest.  
The man closest to him grabbed Clint by the hair and yanked his head up so that he was looking at the camera. The look on his face was one of stubborn defiance, the one he always wore when he refused to admit he was in pain, the one he'd wore yesterday morning.  
“Look what we have,” a muffled voice boasted, “We found this poor bird with a clipped wing.” it was a terrible joke, but he seemed to think it was funny. He continued on after a quick bout of laughing, “I'd like to propose a trade. Your little 'hero' for the equipment you stole from us. But, then again, you don't have much of a choice, now you?”  
As if to accent his words one of the men moved over and shoved two thick, gloved fingers into Clint bullet wound. Hawkeye's tired, bloodshot eyes flew open wide then shut tight as he shrieked in pain, voice horse and raw, liked he'd been doing a lot of screaming lately. He tried to pull away, but the twitched, looking like they curled somewhat and his screaming increased in volume. Clint thrashed wildly, making the chains cut into his wrists, blood running down his arms from them and he received a heavy, booted kick to the ribs, that sent him into a coughing fit as the fingers were removed.  
The archer slumped down once more, his head still held up by the tight hold on his hair. There was blood staining the areas around his mouth now and he looked like he was somewhere else mentally.  
Then the man holding Clint laughed and moved his hand from his chin to grasp his chin, smearing the blood on his bottom lip with his his thumb. “We may not kill though. It would be a tragedy to waste such beauty, but I do promise you that if you do not dive us we want, shield and avengers, you will never see this man again.”  
Clint looked straight at the camera then, bloodshot eyes finally focused and gave a weak smile. He mouthed the words “Don't worry,” right before the camera went off.  
Phil was on his feet and out the door before, the moment the screen went black, before anyone could say anything, heading straight for his office. That ass! Clint had known he would. Somehow Phil knew Clint would do that, he always did, always put himself last. He didn't care if they saved him or not, he just didn’t want them not to worry about him.  
The agent punched his office door, trying in vain to release some of his pent up emotion. He rested his forehead on it next, watching his tears fall to the floor.  
“I'm so sorry, Clint,” he mumbled, “I don't think I ever realized how much you loved me before, I wish I had. You're the best part of me and I'll do whatever it takes to find you, I promise. This is all my fault and ill search forever if I have to.” he hit his knees then. “as long as I live I will love you and I will never give up hope.” His words echoed in the hallway that was as empty as he felt.  
***  
Tony had to admit that Coulson's reaction had caught him off guard. He had looked like he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. But to be fair they'd all been thrown off by the video. The image of Hawkeye covered in his own blood, screaming in pain as he was sadistically tortured, was burned into Tony's mind.  
If he was lucky these people were as they seemed to be, he would be able to track down where the video had come from and they would be able to save Clint before any think worse happened to him. First though, he wanted to check Coulson.  
Tony could here the old country music playing from all the way down the hallway as he approached Coulson's office. He could even smell the brutally distinct burn of tequila before he reached the door to open it. When he did he found the man he had been looking for swirling the contents of one of the biggest shot glasses he had ever seen, and being Tony Stark he had seen some pretty damn big ones.  
“Well, fuck...” was the more articulate thing he could manage.  
“What do you want, Stark?” Coulson glared at him before taking the shot like it was nothing more than flavored water.  
“Well I was just, I was going to trace the feed so I could find Clint.” he answered, stepping inside as the wheels in his head began to turn.  
“Then why aren't you?” the agent didn't even bother to look back up at him, pouring himself another shot, his hands shaking.  
“...You're in love with Hawkeye, aren't you?” Tony asked, everything clicking into place. The blatant favoritism, where Clint would disappear to for hours and come back in a really good mood, Coulson's punching him yesterday and not the drinking. He was surprised he hadn't realized it sooner.  
Coulson choked on his shot, erupting into a violent coughing fit. Tony watched him patiently, taking reactions as a yes.  
When he finally stopped he shot Tony a watery-eyed glared, “Why would you think that!?”  
Tony snorted, “Please you might as well have screamed it.”  
Coulson didn't answer, instead drinking straight from the bottle. Tony sighed, “I'll let you know when I find. You're going to want to be mostly sober by then, at least.” he grinned when Coulson stopped drinking and he turned on his heel, leaving to do as he had said.  
***  
Phil was on his third cup of coffee when he finally got the call to get on the plane because Stark had tracked the source of the video down. Apparently this rescue mission was just going to be him and a few other agents, none of the Avengers were coming either because they were too injured or they would make that mission bigger than it need to be.  
“You know he's probably dead by now, right, Agent Coulson?” one of the other agents said, obviously having not paid attention to the briefing.  
“He wouldn't die that easy,” Coulson responded, 'I wont give you on you. I'll come for you , know matter what it takes. I'll find you, Clint, I promise.' he climbed into his seat and stared out the window as they took off.  
***  
Clint watched the two guards assigned to him shift about nervously, giving him wary glances, like they expected him to spring up and attack them at any moment. It made him want to laugh. Normally he would have taunted the hell out of them, but the idea of having fingers in his wound again kept his mouth shut.  
His mind kept drifting to Phil though, much to his ire. He knew Phil would have seen the video, but he didn't know how Phil would react to it, especially after the other morning. That's why he said what he did. Even if Phil didn't feel the same, didn't love him, he still didn't want him to worry.  
He wished he had more time early, but no, he had to be a childish idiot and ruin it. He should have been grown-up enough to understand that Phil just wasn't emotionally attached like he was, but he had hoped and when that hope was shattered he ran like a coward.  
Looking back on the whole thing Clint realized how much of a selfish ass he had been. He had wanted Phil to give him more when the other man hadn't wanted to. So when Phil refused Clint threw a tantrum and left. He ran because he was to scared to face the truth, to scared to admit that Phil could ever truly love him.  
He was still scared to be honest, but he wasn't scared because he was walking the line between life and death. He wasn't scared of death. He was scared of life, scared of living alone, of seeming the man he loved everyday but knowing he could never have him. It was all too obvious, now, that Phil was tired of being in a relationship with him and he would have to accept that. He didn't want him to be happy so he would just bow out peacefully and disappear. Clint wasn’t naive enough to think they could be friends because he knew that that would only make it worse. This was why he was scared to live. Death was easy, living was the hard part, the part that hurt.  
He was ripped from his miserable wallowing by a loud explosion from somewhere near by. Then the next thing he knew he was smacked in the side of the head by the butt-end of a gun and everything went black.  
***  
Coulson shook his head as he ran down the hallway, shooting anyone who came his way. The grenade had been the last thing he'd expected, but, luckily, he'd made it out of the blast zone in time. On the other hand, all chances of this being a stealth mission were gone.  
Phil checked every room he went by, searching desperately. He was on his fourth hallway before he finally found a door that was locked, and hope soared inside him. He kicked it with as much force as he could, suppressing the urge to grin when it flew open. Figured that these guys had shitty locks.  
Two men rushed out at him then, shooting at him immediately. Phil shot back, taking the out one of them rather quickly. The other one how ever seized the opportunity that presented and managed to shoot Phil in the thigh. Phil hit his knee's but he never stopped firing, shooting at the other man until he finally got him in the throat. The man dropped like a log and Phil pulled himself to his feet, hobbling into the room to see what it was they had been so desperate to hide.  
What he saw made his blood run cold.  
Clint was still on his knees, blood streaked arms chained to the ceiling. There was a lot more blood on him now, but the part that brought tears to the agents eyes was that from where he was standing it looked like Clint wasn't breathing.  
He limped over and undid the chains, wincing at the damaged in bloodied skin underneath, as he held onto the unconscious body, cradling him against him as he sat on the floor. He felt a very faint heartbeat, but it felt as though it could stop any second. “Clint,” he said softly, brushing a hand over his cold, bloody cheek.  
Nothing  
“Clint,” he pleaded again, louder this time, shaking the mans head slightly.  
A glob of blood slid out from between his lips.  
Phil began to cry in earnest. “I love you, Clint. I love you so, so much. I’m so sorry, for everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Please wake up, just keep breathing and open your eyes. Please. I can't loose you. You can't leave me! He sobbed into the archer blood matted hair, holding him tight against him body.  
When Hawkeye's body continued to hang limply in his arms, his sobs worsened to the point where he was barely breathing himself. He could feel his whole world crumbling to pieces around him. He didn't know if he could go on without Clint in his life. Nothing would be the same for him.  
“Hey,” a voice croaked and Phil froze when he felt a cold, shaky hand on his face, “Calm down, Phil, you know I hate crying.” Clint was staring up at him with tired eyes, looking like he was on the verge of tears.  
“I promised you I'd always come for you,” Phil replied, smiling through the tears, “I'm so sorry, Clint, I, I didn't mean it, any of it. My work isn't more important. You are the most important thing in my life and I-”  
“Phil,” Clint said, cutting him of softly, he was crying now and his eyes were filled with an endless love that made the agent feel like everything was right in the world. He leaned up, closing the small distance between them and kissed him lovingly, murmuring 'I love you' against his lips. He pulled back then and smiled before blacking out again, having lost too much blood to stay conscious.  
***  
When Clint woke up again he was laying in his and Phil's bed in their apartment, the sounds of the city a comforting rumble in the distance. He had been cleaned and bandaged, but he was sore as hell. He groaned when he sat up, the room swimming around him for a few seconds before it finally settled.  
He had just stood up when Phil hobbled into the room on crutches. They stared at each other for what seemed like eons before the older an cracked a small smile. “I was beginning to think you would never wake up. How are you feeling?”  
“Hungry,” Clint smiled back, walking over to him, “What happened to you?”  
“One of your guards shot me before I could shoot him,” Phil answered as he lifted his hand to caress Clint’s face softly, reverently almost, like he couldn’t believe Clint was standing right there in front of him. Clint leaned into his touch, humming in enjoyment. He almost couldn’t believe it either.  
“Hey! Coulson, he up yet?”Tony's voice echoed from the living room and Phil groaned.  
“He's been here since they let me take you home from medical a few days ago,” he explained, obviously irritated by that fact.  
Clint laughed, the sound making the past week seem like a bad dream to Phil. “I'll go take care of Tony if you make breakfast.  
It was afternoon but Phil nodded anyway, simply relieved that he would finally be getting rid of Stark and his questions about his and Clint’s love life. “What do you want?”  
“Anything is good as long as long as I’ve got you,” Clint purred before making his way to the living room.  
Phil laughed this time. This was why he would always come for Clint


End file.
